02 - Thief In the Night

Cedar attempts to take the sword back and find its owner.

Chapter 2 - Thief In the Night

            Cedar woke in the early morning, when the dew still shone on the grass. He ran out of his house and softly eased the door open. Running to the library, he heard the birds singing and thought, This is a nice day to be outside. Pity that he would be spending it in other ways.

            He opened the library door and walked to the nearest shelf. He began searching for a particular book that he needed to see. Shelf after shelf he searched, looking for that book. Shelf after shelf he passed, searching.

            It was afternoon when he finally found the one he was looking for, hiding on top of a bookshelf he had passed many times. Dusty, pages yellowed with time, the book’s title read in small letters, The Three Trials. His pulse quickened. At last he could read the story over. Not able to restrain himself any longer, he sat down on the mossy dirt floor and opened the book. As it opened, the pages crackled in grudging obedience and sat still.

            He read through the pages as he did once before, this time alone. He drank in the words, the eloquent phrases that together wove a beautiful tapestry. Specific passages throughout the story troubled him, questions lurking at the back of his mind. One such unanswered question was the identity of the rival. Never in the book was the man’s name mentioned, even in passing. Not even was the man’s birthplace mentioned. This was a strange phenomenon, as a person’s birthplace was always told. Each person wore their village’s name like a badge of honor, it was a part of their identity. Yet the wording in the story made it seem as if the two were relatively young in the story. Was the man still alive, and if so, where was he now?

            Another that troubled him, indeed the main reason that he had searched for the book, was the unsolved mystery of the third trial. The Hero had just disappeared over the Wall and -- poof! Gone, gone from history and legend, gone from all memory. So many questions arose from this unfinished ending. Where was he now? Is he alive? Will he return? Cedar was a curious little bud, and had been for as long as he could remember. This was the first thing in a while that had him completely stumped.

            He knew that the sword fit into the story somehow, but unfortunately, he didn’t have it anymore. He had reluctantly left it with Sagebrush, but now he needed it back. There was only one way he could do that, he knew. Sighing, he resigned himself to the task ahead. He sat there for a moment, mentally preparing, then he pulled himself up and walked his feet over the rough floor to the center of the hut. Softly, he treaded past the shelves, past the rows of books, past the cluster of chairs to the staircase near the middle of the hut. Above the staircase, dappled patches of moonlight and shadow danced along the table, the desk, the chairs. All was silent except the chirping of birds outside, serenading the passing night.

            Cedar paused for a long moment at the bottom of the winding stair, and then he began to creep up the steps. He put his weight on the first step. No noise. He moved on to the second step. Creak. There was a small noise, probably almost inaudible in day, but amplified many times over by the night air and in his ears. He stopped, listened. No further sound came from the stair or what lay above, so taking care not to make another sound, he proceeded up the staircase.

 

            He finally arrived at the balcony overlooking the library. While most houses were bare and utilitarian for the most part, anyone could tell that Sagebrush liked his creature comforts. The table was adorned with a marvelous centerpiece of fern, violet, and all other kinds of flowers and plants. Above, a chandelier of hardened sap hung, filtering the moonlight and reflecting it around the hut. To one side there lay a desk, strewn with many scrolls and books of different topics. A patch of moonlight came upon the desk, illuminating a scroll titled, The Midland Giants. Cedar pictured giants trampling across the fields, crushing the places he called home. He shuddered. Back to work, he chided himself. No time for fooling around.

            To the other side of the dinner table, there was a bed. In this bed, there came small noises, the quiet breaths of sleep. Cedar glanced at the bed and confirmed his fears. Sagebrush was lying in the bed, asleep. He shook himself mentally. Now was no time for second thoughts. Glancing around, he searched for another place to check. On one side of the bed was a dresser, neat and orderly and made of some dark wood. On the other side was a nightstand, and on it --

            Cedar’s eyes fell upon a familiar gleam, a spot of moonshine upon a blade of grass. The sword, he thought eagerly. His eyes unblinkingly staring at Sagebrush, he reached for the sword and nearly knocked the small table off its legs. A clattering noise echoed through the halls of the library, and Sagebrush stirred in his sleep. Cedar made a second grab for the hilt, and this time his fingers closed upon cold grass. Still quietly, yet faster than before, he snuck down the stairs and out the door, into the night.

Reviews

[louwilding]

really enjoying this :) will keep on reading

[Dani The Unreviewed]

Now this book is worth reading :) keep writing, and I'll be reading.